


Something's Gone

by CaptainNautical



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, Hurt John Watson, John Watson's Blog, Violence, cause im out of things to add im sorry, little bit of, whatever else you want to add
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNautical/pseuds/CaptainNautical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m not here to throw my philosophies at you and rant. It’s the middle of the night and no one needs that. You’re probably only here looking for a new update to the latest case or maybe looking up an old one or something more interesting than me anyway. (No one wants to hear about me in the first place)<br/>But no, I’m here to tell you I am not going to be writing about our case or any more new ones.<br/>I’m done. Absolutely finished because I have lost two out of the three people that I am living for. They have been taken away from me and I will never see them again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To all the wonderful people who have given me great feedback on my first work of the fandom and I apologize from the bottom of the ocean for not having the motivation to take it to the length it probably should be. With this one I hope to improve on my skills of keeping up with the chapters (my girlfriend is gonna have to help me). But I hope you enjoy this one and i'll be posting again soon.  
> ((also dont be mad at me its the prologue its short))

The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson

[4:05 a.m]

Singularly, a human being is an inconsequential thing. Don’t believe me? Look around you; is there anyone else in the room? No? Then right now you do not mean a thing. Get up. Knock something over. Yell. Talk to yourself. Someone might come in to check on you or maybe tell you to shut the hell up, but other than that nothing. No one hears you. No one cares. We are nothing alone. A ripple in the breeze and just a speck in time. And the truth is if I told you someone died, you wouldn’t care. It is only one singular person. If you did not have a day to day life with the person, it wouldn’t matter because you and that person are alive and as long as he or she is alive, you’re fine and good.   
But what if I told you that person was taken away from you. Someone has stolen this person out of your arms and you will never see them again. Now you would really care, wouldn’t you? 

But listen, I’m not here to throw my philosophies at you and rant. It’s the middle of the night and no one needs that. You’re probably only here looking for a new update to the latest case or maybe looking up an old one or something more interesting than me anyway. (No one wants to hear about me in the first place)   
But no, I’m here to tell you I am not going to be writing about our case or any more new ones.   
I’m done. Absolutely finished because I have lost two out of the three people that I am living for. They have been taken away from me and I will never see them again. 

I am here to tell you that; and I am here to confess to the void. Mary Morstan, my wife, is dead. Our unborn child that had but two months until her birth, is dead.   
They did not die peacefully. Mary did not fall asleep next to me and just simply not wake up. She was nowhere near an age that death should even glance at. Nor was my daughter. Especially her. 

She was shot in the stomach three times. My daughter died instantly as if she was never here at all. Sherlock has told me Mary did not. 

John Hollard, a forty two year old man whom Sherlock and I were looking in on for the murder of ten women, killed my family. I am disgusted that he shared even one part of my name.   
I killed him while he was running away from murdering my wife. 

I remember Sherlock finding me standing over the body. I remember him taking me away. I remember him sitting me down in Lestrade’s car and taking the stupid shock blanket off my shoulders. 

The rest is a fog, and I am still in it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ominous smog rolls in  
> (its mostly dialogue im sorry)

“Why are you here anyway?” Sherlock asked as he slumped deeper into his chair and pressed his forehead to his steepled fingers. Mary, her feet up on the coffee table, John’s blanket draped over her shoulders and chest with a coffee cup balanced on her round, pregnant belly frowned at the man.  
“I can’t come too when you’re on a case?”  
Sherlock groaned  
“I asked for John. Not Mary and her baby book. Just Mary and John is fine; come whenever. But not the baby book.” Sherlock sunk lower, his knees bunched in front of him. Mary whined and brought the book out from around the sofa. Sherlock groaned and John leaned out from where he was making tea in the kitchen.  
“I sense negativity.” He said, stirring the teas as he peered out at the two of them.  
“Sherlock doesn’t like the baby book.” Mary explained, clutching it to her chest. John left as soon as the thing was mentioned.  
“See.” Sherlock muttered, flipping through his phone anxiously.  
Mary gasped from where she was sitting. “John Hamish Watson,” she scolded as the man came back in, “your own daughter and you don’t even want to plan anything for her.” She shook her head at him as he set his tea on the table. John sighed and leant his head on Mary’s shoulder, taking the book from her as she shifted up herself.  
“Fine, fine. Let’s look at the names again then, hm?”  
“Oh please, no.” Sherlock moaned from the ball he had made himself. 

“Amber.” John started.  
“Eh.” Mary responded.  
“Taylor.”  
“Maybe.”  
“Ciara.”  
“Absolutely not.”  
“That’s a hard no.”  
“Keep going Watson.”  
“Macey.”  
“That’s cute.”  
“Sherlock.” Sherlock chimed in, now inspecting his nails instead of the phone. Both John and Mary tilted their head and made contemplating noises.  
“Still not a girls name.” They said almost in unison.  
“Think about it.” Sherlock responded.  
“Middle name.” Mary smiled. John smirked and nodded his head. 

“Waverly.” Mary said after some time of looking through the list moved from John’s lap to hers.  
“Waverly Watson.” Sherlock made a disgusted sound. “No.”  
“Mm I agree.” John muttered, nodding off from the lull of Mary’s breathing and the warm sun on his face. 

“Alice.”  
John looked up as Mary suggested this. Even Sherlock pried his eyes away from his phone. John nodded once.  
“I like Alice.”  
“Alice Watson.” Mary hummed. “Her names Alice.” Both men smiled slightly and John nodded his head.  
“Alice.”  
“What about middle names?” Mary suggested, looking up from her book at the two boys. “Well? I pick Alice. Can’t do all the work.”  
“Alice Claire Watson.” John said, not paying attention and flicking a speck of lint off his trousers.  
“Perfect.”

The room was quiet after that. The calm afternoon air of a fall day coming in golden streaks across the floor and up Sherlock Holmes’ back. It twined in his dark curls and highlighted the brown tucked away in them. The man’s eyes, only one illuminated by the soft glow, strayed towards the couple on the sofa, ignoring the fact of this distraction to take them in. John’s head was lent onto Mary’s shoulder still. His legs outstretched with hers and his arms folded around his chest. His eyes were closed and he wore a loose smile, almost half asleep.  
Mary’s arm was around her husband’s shoulder where it stroked and pet every so often. Her eyes downcast with dreams filling the irises as she flipped through her book. The two (three) were flooded with gold light. They looked perfect. Some sort of angels sitting with one another so close could not be allowed to sit so close, could they? Sherlock even found himself strangely reluctant to look down to his phone of which he had been waiting for the whole day. John stirred from the noise and Mary herself looked up from her dream. The golden light was pierced as if it was only just a veil and Sherlock looked back down. 

“So she’ll really be Alice?” John said as he straightened and looked back to Mary. Mary smiled and nodded her head.  
“I think it’s beautiful. Alice Claire Watson.”  
“I think you’re beautiful.”  
“Smooth bastard.” 

“God you two are gross.” Sherlock groaned, striding over to hand John his phone. Mary hit him with her book as he paced.  
“So we know where he’s going to be.” John raised an eyebrow to the pacing man.  
“Exactly,” Sherlock lifted a finger to John, “but..”  
“He’s being obvious about it.”  
“Correct.” Sherlock moved over to the sofa and looked down expectantly. “Move.” He said to both. John got up unconsciously, tugging at his jumper and staring down at the phone. Mary did not.  
“Pregnant.” She gave instead, flipping a page of her book out of spite. Sherlock sighed and made due with falling on the couch and bringing all but his legs upon it. Mary hummed and John turned.  
“So why so obvious now?” John continued.  
“He wants someone to find him. He-”  
“Who?” Mary interrupted.  
“John.” Sherlock replied. Mary’s eyes squinted up to her husband.  
“Not me, John.” He explained. “John Hollard. Murderer of ten women in the past ten days-”  
“Killing pattern-”  
“- and an excellent hide-and-seek-player.” John turned the phone so she could see him.  
“Says right there where he lives.” Mary muttered. John spread his hands and sat on the arm of his chair.  
“He knows we’re after him.” Sherlock said into his hands. “He knows incompetence has given in and John and I are looking for him.”  
“So why tell us now?”“He wants us to come.It’s an invitation; come and get me then. He’s trying to tell us in a very stupid way that he’s not afraid. So, give us his address, we show up, he waits for us and tries to kill us by some kind of surprise attack. Alone. Idiot.”  
“He could get help?” Mary suggested.  
Sherlock shook his head. “He’s arrogant. Wouldn’t want help.” He suddenly jumped to his feet. John was confused.  
“So.. it sounds a little too easy?”  
“Hm it is. That’s why we’re leaving now and bringing him in as soon as possible.”  
“What? Now?”  
“Yes now go get your coat. No you know what-” John was cut off of any response by his coat being thrown and landing over his head. Mary smiled.  
“I’m coming.” She said, groaning and sliding off the sofa. John yanked the coat off of him.  
“Oh no, no, no.” John protested, standing and shaking his head at his wife with his coat in his arms.  
“Why not?” Sherlock and Mary said at the same time.  
“Why not?” John gaped at the two of them. “You’re pregnant. She’s pregnant.” He said to the both of them. “And there’s going to be a man with a gun trying to kill us.”  
“I don’t see the problem.” Mary said standing and tugging on her coat. Sherlock smiled.  
“He’s an idiot anyway, John.” The both had their coats on and John groaned.  
“I swear to god you two need to take a break sometimes.”


End file.
